


undone

by wakugera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Sombra is not a good person, Talon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-03-13 23:45:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13581483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakugera/pseuds/wakugera
Summary: Sombra and Amélie learn each other's secrets, and everything is downhill from there.





	1. volskaya

**Author's Note:**

> if it doesn't become incredibly obvious, i don't know spanish or french. i'm doing a lot of research and trying to be more accurate than google translate, but anyone who's comfortable with either will just have to tolerate my inevitable awkward clunky use of the languages. if you have any corrections or suggestions i am 100% open-minded to them! anyway, i hope you enjoy :)

“You know,” Sombra started, and when the purple flicker turned into her she had to smile a little at Katya’s reaction, “friends don’t _usually_ try to kill each other.”

Katya had a pretty face, and she always wasted it on glaring when Sombra was around. So cold and angry.

“It’s such a shame. I’ve been hurt before, you know, and it doesn't feel good to go through that again,” she said as she leaned against the wall, examining her fingernails. She put a finger on her chin, looking away in deep thought.

The silence carried on just as long as Sombra wanted it to: long enough for her to crack.

“What do you-”

“Alright,” she interrupted, springing away from the wall. “I’ve decided to forgive you. _If…_ ” She raised her eyebrows, leaning her body forwards towards the woman. Katya was glaring again, but Sombra saw that little glint of fear in her eye, and that was enough to bring a smile to her face. “If you say _sorry_.”

Katya blinked, and the shock rippled through her once she realised what Sombra had said. Sombra smiled, tilting her head.

This was just emotional torture, and she sort of realised that, but it was what would work for now. Maybe Katya would send more people after her, but that would obviously fail. She’d get the message eventually — and this short meeting would help her, just that little bit.

Sombra loved to help.

“I’m sorry,” Katya finally said, and the words tasted so harsh and bitter, it was exactly what Sombra had been craving. Her smile grew.

“Now, that wasn’t so-”

“How did you get in here?”

Sombra raised her eyebrows with comical curiosity. “How do you _think_ I got in here?” she asked with a scoff, walking to the other side of the room. “Anyway, Kat — I can call you that, right? Great. I’ll be seeing you around, amiga!”

With a little wave, she felt her body rushing to its next destination, coming as always with the weird sensation of pins and needles in her brain. After twitching her fingers her whole body was shifting, blending herself into the background as she strode down the courtyard of Volskaya Industries. Her ride was just around the corner, and—

Huh. Her stride slowed as the beeping played in her head, and she lifted her hand, creating the holographic image as she moved. Pinging a certain hyper-advanced scope. That was a precaution she’d assumed would prove unnecessary. Sombra pressed a few buttons, and then sighed theatrically as she walked, around the corner to let her stealth vanish.

“I don’t _like_ spiders. They’re creepy and they go places they shouldn’t.”

Widowmaker was silent for a few seconds, and Sombra’s mind was anything but silent. _Right_ , it was saying, in English as it had done since she joined Talon, _so we’ve been caught red handed. You can either let her go back and report her findings…_

“Where exactly do you think a spider doesn’t belong?”

_…Or owe her a favour._

But that wasn’t how Widowmaker worked, was it? She’d go and report back no matter what. Because she _was_ Talon. She didn’t have anything but.

“Most spiders only find out after they’re a little flat shape under someone’s boot. You should be more careful.”

Widowmaker’s silences felt sharp, and Sombra was twitching her fingers, pretending the action was just nerves and not herself scouring the internet for any little piece of info on this woman. Amélie Lacroix, that much was common knowledge within Talon — in fact, she had very few secrets. How could she, when her whole being had been designed around the organisation?

But there was a dark spot. No reported activity, during her off-hours, but it was so suspiciously dark that Sombra knew it had to mean something.

She saw the graphed out mini-map showing her Widow’s location shift slightly. She felt the pinging change, and she realised that Widowmaker was releasing her from the sights of her scope.

“That’s only the foolish ones,” she said, a little snarl in her perfect French voice. “But I think we can come to an arrangement. After all, you’re proficient with webs, are you not?”

The curling smile in her voice and her words gave Sombra pause. “Stay away from jokes,” she suggested. “They don’t suit you.”

No. She was sure that Widowmaker was supposed to report this information back; there was no way she wouldn’t. No arrangement would save her. This was just a joke, trying to get Sombra thinking she owed Widowmaker a favour while also sitting in the grasp of Talon.

But still, it seemed so… autonomous. She expanded her search, keywords _blue woman_ with all the filters that would help her. Something so basic as a Google search tended to be forgone by the pros, but Sombra wasn’t above that, especially when someone was as distinctive as Widowmaker — and as likely to cover all their tracks in the more official channels.

What was interesting was the one, single result, a social media post of a curious citizen’s sighting in Málaga — and when she looked into Málaga a little closer, the reports of Overwatch members, some of the exact ones recalled by Winston.

“Well?” Widow asked, a small smile in her voice.

“Hmm, I don’t know…” Sombra dragged her words out a little bit. “You’re a busy woman to be making so many arrangements.”

“Am I now?” She was more bemused than worried.

A little bit of research — all she could do in this sort of time-frame — corroborated the connection, so Sombra took a leap of faith.

“Yeah, with Talon, Overwatch, _and_ me? Do you really think you have that sort of time?”

The silence that followed was tense, and Sombra wasn’t sure if she’d gotten her or if Widowmaker was just very, very confused. The tension built with every second, until Sombra was sure it had been a mistake—

“Overwatch?” she finally said, bewildered this time, but something about her voice made Sombra suspicious. She opened up another screen, careful to look casual, hacking into Widow’s statistical information. It wasn’t difficult; she wrote half of the firewall herself, but she’d never done this before. Body temperature, BPM — not the sort of information she’d generally consider useful.

 _18,_ she saw, and her eyes narrowed as she watched it. _19\. 18. 21. 20. 19. 20._

They’d never been able to stop her heartrate entirely, as far as she knew. Science couldn’t go that far yet. But lower than this — around 5 to 15, she’d heard once.

“Amélie, information is my business. You know that. I wouldn’t let these things slip my notice, would I?”

“Tch,” Widowmaker’s noise, frustration slipping through her serene facade, made Sombra’s smile grow slightly. “It was hardly a secret. Do you plan to report my every outing to the council? See if they truly care.”

“I mean, I _could_ ,” Sombra said. She’d struck gold here — but did she want to push her luck? “Maybe you could set a standard there? If it’s not too much stress for you.”

_19\. 20. 19. 18. 22. 20._

Widow pulled herself together, letting one of her own theatrical little sighs out. “You’re playing at a little game that you don’t entirely understand, aren’t you?”

Sombra pursed her lips. She wasn’t wrong.

“Still testing the waters with each experimental step you take. Why not be upfront with me, Sombra?”

A little thrill ran through Sombra at Widowmaker’s hot-and-cold tone, her accent, her voice. The way she said Sombra’s name. Sombra might be part machine by now, but she knew she was human. And so was Widowmaker; denying it would be her weakness.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Sombra glanced around the corner, still with office-types striding to and from the Volskaya Industries building. She’d suggest she speak to Widowmaker about this at a better place, but she couldn’t let the issue hang while Widowmaker had this information on her. “Alright, let me tell you what I know. Whatever Talon did to you, its scars are coming undone. So you’ve been in touch with Overwatch, valiant heroes who care about your _wellbeing_. How am I doing so far?”

“Sounds like baseless speculation to me.”

_21\. 22. 20. 23. 20._

“Well, I’m watching your BPM right now. It’s above quota.”

“ _Merde_ ,” Widowmaker scoffed, and Sombra’s smile was a full-blown grin this time. “You’re a nosey woman, aren’t you? Fine. We’ll discuss this later.”

Victory — at least as close as she could get — ran through her as she shut off the contact, heard the pinging sound grow more and more distant.

“Bye,” she said cheerfully, although Widow couldn’t hear her, and a second later she was invisible.


	2. amélie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We might as well be amicable if we’re going to be having these talks, right?”

Lacroix kept a copy of her wedding photo in her file cloud.

Once it had been a fascination. As they first twisted her, providing new feelings and new opinions, she’d felt more pain than she’d ever been able to imagine, the mental torture almost equal to the physical. She knew, because those thoughts had flickered through her head at the time. But eventually they learned their mistakes and they took away the pain. She didn’t feel much of anything anymore, so it was strange to look at that picture, a memory so clear to her, the statement of happiness so pervasive, and yet she couldn’t feel a thing. Like a child’s tongue curiously seeking out the space where a tooth once belonged.

Nothing changed. For so long. Everything was static, and she obeyed orders, and she advanced Talon and through Talon, humanity. It was meaningful work, she knew it because they told her. And then she looked at the picture again, something she saw at least once a month, in the silence of her own room.

It had been strange looking at it then. Her tired eyes were heavy, but she looked at the face of a man whom she’d once known inside and out, features that she used to think so often about, cheeks which she’d once touched, lips which she’d once kissed.

And then a driplet of liquid slid down her cheek. It had been alien; she knew what it meant — of course she knew — but still, she stared at it, now on her finger, like she didn’t. Immediately, she reported it to the doctor, and then O'Deorain fixed her again, for just a few weeks. The process had hurt, all over again. Ripping her open to clumsily sew her back together.

The next time it happened it hadn’t been nearly so simple as a picture of an ancient memory. It was a scent; a spice, she was sure, that her mother had used to over-indulge in with every meal she cooked. She’d simply been walking the backstreets of Paris and the scent had assaulted her, far more dangerously than any enemy ever had, leaving her with nothing to do but find a hiding spot and sob.

This time, she didn’t get it fixed. The pain was too fresh in her memory, the discomfort still running through her blood. All she could do was hold it back, pretend it wasn’t happening. It worked; when the emotions were few and far between, never occurring when she had a job to do, there was no reason for anyone to be concerned. She still was, though. It was easy to push it away when it mattered most, but would it always be?

The contact with Angela Ziegler had been a new beginning for her. Unexpected, to say the least. Angela had heard, obviously, about what became of Amélie Lacroix, but their meeting hadn’t been a combat situation. Lacroix’s location had been peripheral to a job she was doing, but she was far enough removed to consider herself off-duty, and so when they encountered one another in a restaurant it had simply been tense conversation.

But there was very good reason that Angela had become known as Mercy. She’d always been a kind person, a far too observant person, and somehow, that conversation had been a gateway into a world which Widowmaker — Amélie — had once lived in.

It was every six months that they’d planned to meet again, Mercy willing to help Widowmaker with her awakening, with her returning humanity. Professional help, offered as a friend to a sworn enemy. Lacroix hadn’t trusted it; had wondered how she could take advantage of it, had been sure Angela was doing the same. Still, she showed up for the first meeting.

And evidently it had been a mistake. She stood tall and proud as Sombra strode in, her easy motions seeping with confidence. She was still smaller. Lacroix looked down at her, refusing to even give her the privilege of lowering her chin.

She could have denied Sombra the other day. They both knew it. But she hadn’t.

She’d given up. She thought she’d been caught, so she allowed herself to be. Maybe Sombra had been right; maybe there were places a spider shouldn’t be. Maybe it was far more simple than that.

“Widowmaker!” she said, her husky voice cheerful as ever. It was the pet name given to her by O’Deorain, something only the lower-ranking in Talon used frequently. “How’s it going? How are you _feeling_?”

“Murderous,” Widow answered calmly. Sombra laughed, a hint of barely-hidden nervousness in the sound.

“Relax, it was just a question. We might as well be amicable if we’re going to be having these talks, right?”

“You threw the assassination.”

Sombra made a non-committal noise, wobbling a palm-down hand to add to the effect. “Only slightly.”

“It isn't a joke,” Lacroix said with anger bubbling below the surface. She wasn’t sure if, of all the new sensations she was feeling, anger or misery was worse. But at least she was angry on behalf of Talon.

“Come on, you think it’s funny,” Sombra said, eyes bright and wild as ever. She was clearly trying to provoke her, and that’s why it didn’t work, why Lacroix just glared at her instead. Eventually, she pouted, shifting back to the balls of her feet and crossing her arms. “I think _your_ thing is funny. Can’t you return a favour?”

“I think you underestimate how little I’d care if we happened upon your corpse in a non-implicating location.”

“Oh, that reminds me — I was going to call up Moira. I have something to tell…”

“Be quiet. Your attempts to provoke me aren’t doing you any favours considering what I know about you.”

“I know,” Sombra shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

The anger ran through Lacroix, but she held it back, forcing herself to breathe. “Speak, then. Let’s get this over with — what do you think would be equitable?”

Sombra’s eyes lit up for a moment, then shifted away as she thought. “Two terms. One, obviously, don’t tell them about my friend. And two…” her eyes shot back over, eye contact so brazen and intense that it almost startled Widowmaker. “There’s someone I want dead.”

“You’re really trying to bargain this?” Sombra shrugged.

“Hey, we’re here, right? I figure we could help each other.”

“I’m loyal to Talon.”

Sombra sucked in air through her teeth, making a hissing noise. “Weird, then, that we’re standing here. And that you’re keeping that little secret.”

Lacroix held herself together, but still she sighed — performative, she supposed. An extra step to show her olive branch. “Alright. My second term is an expansion on my first. Don’t give away my secret — and help me hide it.”

“Me?” Sombra put a hand on her heart. “I didn’t realise you trusted me like this.”

“I’m aware of your hacking abilities. Make them think I’m just as I always was.”

“I like this treacherous part of you,” Sombra said with a little squint of her eyes. A compliment, by all measures, except they both knew that she’d never betray Talon. The compliment was just another dagger.

“Is that a deal?”

Sombra smirked, outstretching her hand, and Widowmaker took it, sceptical — she didn’t like to touch Sombra’s hands, with all her tech upgrades buzzing around along her fingers, but nothing happened.

“Adieu,” Sombra said with a little wave, her accent beyond clumsy, as she turned and left the room just as confident as she’d entered. Lacroix, left alone, wasn’t sure if she felt better now, or worse. But it didn’t really matter, did it? She just had to look out for herself. For Talon. She could work against Sombra behind her back, just like Sombra would surely do for her.

She turned, kept her posture pristine, and walked out of the room through the other door proudly. Just more business as usual, she supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if it isn't clear, i'm going to be alternating between povs every chapter. hope you enjoyed!


	3. adjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You let her live. We've known for some time, and we've tolerated it."

“You wanted to speak with me, Gabe?”

She’d been debating referring to him by his nickname as she spoke, but then she did it anyway, the name slipping out of her mouth. Reaper’s breaths were loud, his aura cold, and Sombra was unthreatened as always by him. People who took themselves too seriously were always the least impressive.

She met eyes with Widowmaker, standing tall and proper in the back of the room, watching her with golden eyes, shining against the light. Sombra looked away quickly. She wasn’t here to be obvious.

“I want to talk to you about Volskaya,” Reaper breathed, and it took a second for everything to hit her. She glanced back at Widowmaker — who had looked up slightly, eyes slightly wider.

Meeting Sombra’s eyes, Widowmaker shook her head, quick and subtle. She was scared. The notorious Widowmaker, Amélie Lacroix, was afraid of Sombra. Sombra narrowed her eyes, trying to seem as suspicious as she could, before turning back to Reaper.

“Why?”

“Because you let her live,” Reaper answered instantly. Now it was Sombra’s turn to be afraid — her back up plan had pretty much come down to _cross your fingers and shut your eyes tight_ which in hindsight wasn't quite sufficient.

“Why do you say that?” she asked, trying not to look at Widowmaker again, trying to sound easy and casual. What was the best way to out Widow’s secret, then? Doing it now would be beyond strange, would let any keen mind realise their deal, would make Sombra look even worse. She had to sneak it in. Report it to O’Deorain in private, maybe.

“You’re worse at keeping secrets than you think. We’ve known for some time, and we’ve tolerated it.”

It took just a second for Sombra to fully comprehend this, all the implications regarding Widowmaker and herself, and then she wanted to cheer. Fuck yes. “Great!” She said, offering him a smile. “Why bring it up now, then?”

“The order to kill was misguided,” Reaper said, turning and pacing, and Sombra took the chance to aim a smile in Widowmaker’s direction — she didn’t react, eyes trying to bore a hole into Sombra’s head. Sombra turned back to Reaper fast. “And your decision to sabotage it was generally helpful to our cause. But she’s starting to have more trouble keeping her… omnic situation hidden. I’ve found indications that an upstart group intends to assassinate her instead.”

“Huh.”

Once the rush of relief faded, Sombra didn’t like the idea of Talon having known all along. She’d need to do better next time — the pure luck of their approval was all that kept them on her side right now. It was fortunate she was so necessary within Talon already, or she’d probably stand on much shakier ground.

Because everyone in that room knew that she wouldn’t think twice before disobeying another direct order.

“I want you to stop them. I’ll have the information sent to you — see what you can do from here. Let me know if you need an excursion.”

“Sounds good, boss,” Sombra said, managing a smile. “That all?”

Reaper nodded, barely visible with his hood. “Dismissed.”

With a smirk, and a quick glance at Widow, Sombra turned and left the room. Good and bad. She hadn’t been expecting anything small when the summon reached her, but she might need some time to mull over this one.

It was a real problem if they’d learned about what she did. She fucked up. All the rush of excitement had been great, but now she had to tear apart her every action, learn what she’d done wrong, how he’d known. She’d always preferred working alone, with no need to take that extra care to cover her tracks. But this would have to do, and—

She had Widowmaker now, and Widowmaker had nothing on her. She was just as much Sombra’s as Talon’s, and just as the thought crossed her mind the woman strode past, perfect posture with glittering hair swaying from the high ponytail. She walked sternly, and she broke her stride for just a moment, turning slightly to meet Sombra’s eyes.

Something in her nature told Sombra that Widow expected her to follow. She considered ignoring her; following would be doing the woman a favour, and she didn’t need to. She could go straight to O’Deorain now if she really wanted.

But something about the prospect of Widow completely at her mercy was exciting. She wanted to see what she’d do, how exactly she’d try to balance this situation now that she had absolutely nothing on Sombra. So she followed, smirking to herself as they went into a side-room. With just a twitch of her fingers she accessed the security cams, arranging for them to see nothing but the empty room they’d been watching for the past few hours.

“Well?” Sombra asked with a smile. “What do you have for me now?”

Widow looked at her coldly for a second. “I assume you realise this room is monitored.”

“Not anymore,” Sombra said easily, and Widow nodded, looking away as she thought.

And then an instant later her rifle was pressed against Sombra, the hacker's back hitting the wall.

“Oh,” Sombra said, suddenly regretting her decision. “Maybe I should turn those cameras back on,” she said, eyes looking back up at Widow.

“Do it,” Widow said easily, leaning in a bit, and her voice had that venomous touch to it. “See if it stops me.”

Sombra laughed nervously, wiggling her fingers tentatively towards her SMG, but then Widow stepped forward, yanking it from her belt and closing whatever distance was left between them. “Let’s talk this out,” Sombra said instead, and Widow relaxed — but not completely.

Damn it, Sombra had messed up. Widowmaker was still dangerous, even when Sombra had this information.

“One more thing,” Widow said through gritted teeth, and Sombra hated this proximity for the distracting excitement it was giving her whole body. This was not that situation, she tried to tell herself. “One more favour. And then we’re even.”

Sombra laughed. “It’d have to be a big one, for— oof.”

Widow had pressed the rifle hard against her stomach, and Sombra sucked in a breath through her teeth.

“Alright. What do you have in mind?”

She could feel Widow’s breath on her skin, and it wasn’t helping her think straight. Widow’s eyes glanced away for a second as she thought. “Just name something. Something you want done.”

Sombra could name something alright. But she wiped that thought from her head. “I want a promise. That you’re willing to work with me over Talon.”

Widow narrowed her eyes for just a second. “On one occasion.”

“Five times,” Sombra said strongly. “This location… it’s pretty implicating, you know.”

“Three times.”

Sombra smiled. “Deal. I won’t report you.”

Widow nodded, shifting the weapon back, and Sombra stood still, watching her before walking away.

“Uh, my gun?”

With a growl, Widow dropped the SMG, letting it hit the ground with a loud clack and a rattle as the chain bundled against the ground. Then she left the room, deathly quiet except for her clicking stilettos.

Sombra laughed to herself, uncomfortable with the display of anger. It was a victory, but she didn't feel too good about it for some reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sombra = gay


	4. cracking

“So, how are your friends at Overwatch doing?”

Widowmaker hated Sombra. Every second she spent in her company was infuriating, boiling her blood. But she needed to answer, and right now they were on a job together, hacking into a virtual unknown, a rising corporation which had gained so much power so suddenly that Talon weren’t sure what it could mean. And, if it was necessary, to bring them down harshly.

“They’re not my friends.”

“Aww, I’m sure they’d be sad to hear that. What’s the point meeting with them if you’re not even friends?”

“Information,” Widowmaker snarled. “Among other things.”

Sombra snorted. “Then what’s the problem with me telling Moira?”

“Does it really matter?” She wasn’t going to let Sombra know what it was like. Wouldn’t let her see that sort of weakness — the weakness of fearing pain — within her.

“I guess not,” Sombra shrugged, gathering some screens before her. Lacroix had a basic understanding of coding, so she wasn’t completely lost watching whatever she was doing.

They were seated on a rooftop decorated with foliage, overlooking this Mexican city where some officials from Octan were about to meet with a smaller neighbourhood business. “Can’t be long now,” Sombra said with a little smirk on her face. “And then you’ll be free of me.”

“Don’t forget to tell me if I need to kill their leader.”

“Hmm,” Sombra said, opening up another screen with her fingers. “Probably, yeah. He seems pretty pacifist.”

“Understood,” Lacroix looked down at the rifle in her hands. “I’ll be ready.”

“Aha!” Sombra was too loud, almost startling Lacroix. “Vehicle is in my range. They should be here in _just_ a moment…”

She tapped away, and then just a second later on the road below them a long vehicle drifted past.

“Is he in the back seat?”

“He is, but I can line you up a better shot.”

It was so strange, how agreeable Sombra could be when she was serious about getting their job done. Why couldn’t she always be like that?

“His security’s so weak that I can just hack into his business partner’s phone and tell him to meet in that field there.” She sighed dramatically, a little smirk on her face. “Oh, Mr Castillo, isn’t it just the _worst_ when people change plans at the last minute?” She giggled to herself as she sent the message.

“Do you always talk to yourself on these missions?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Sombra said seriously. “I was talking to Mr Castillo.”

Lacroix sighed. “Alright. How long will he be?”

“ _Be there soon_ , he says. Whatever _that_ means.”

The vehicle came back into sight through buildings, passing down the road and then pulling up by the park. Then Widow activated her scope, picking up her rifle and getting the reticle in line.

Even with Sombra by her side, even when this victim was a waste of time, she’d always enjoyed this moment. She felt her heart beating, steady and so very slow, as he exited the vehicle, zooming in that much more.

He paused at one point, turning to another who exited the vehicle.

“Which is it?”

“I can’t see from here!” Sombra exclaimed from her side, breaking into Widow’s peace just slightly. “Just shoot them both!”

Lacroix managed not to turn to Sombra. Instead she just hoped that her irritation was seeping out of her body.

“Who is the other?”

Sombra sighed loudly. “Alright, Eric Castillo has a moustache.”

The second man, then. She lined it up carefully, matching the location of her reticle to his pace, and then with hardly another thought Widow shot him. She watched for one extra moment — that rush when he crumpled to the ground, when those around him realised what happened.

She couldn’t fight the smile that curled her lips even if she wanted to.

“It’s done.”

Sombra hummed. “Not bad, Widowmaker. I’ll summon the ship.”

 

* * *

 

“Whew, it’s been a while since they gave us a difficult job, huh?”

“You sabotaged the last one.” It irritated her, the things Sombra would laugh at. Like that.

“So? They were cool with it.”

“And what about next time you try something? How will they feel then?”

Sombra rolled her eyes, stretching as she strode through their hotel room. It was a long trip back to HQ — Widowmaker would far prefer to take the plunge and sit through the long journey, but Sombra insisted on breaks.

“By the way, did you get my email about the mark?”

“Yes,” Lacroix sighed — another reason for the slow journey. “I’ll dispatch her tomorrow.”

“Awesome. See, this friendship is working.”

There was no point in correcting the term. Sombra could call it a friendship if she wanted. “Whatever you say, Sombra,” she said dryly.

It was obviously an insult at heart. Widowmaker had never had any friends, not since she became the person she was today. That wasn’t a tragedy; it suited her, and her availability suited Talon. But Sombra was beyond just _not a friend_ right now. She was threatening to ruin everything Lacroix had. With her smiles and her giggles, her coy and playful nature, she endangered Lacroix’s position, her loyalty, the trust she’d earned, and it was all based on her whims.

She should have been stronger, when she saw Sombra at Volskaya Industries that day. She should have known. The words were ringing through her head as she moved to the kitchen, filling a bottle of water, and maybe that was why it hit her then. An ache painfully familiar yet foriegn; so intense and so sudden that she dropped the plastic bottle into the sink, doubling over and grabbing her head in her hands. It throbbed, sharp and dull all at the same time, filling her head with static through which she could just barely hear the sounds around her.

“Uhh, _estás bien_?”

She couldn't glance at Sombra, but in her peripheral vision she saw her standing very still and watching her. She was blurry, because tears were forming in Lacroix's eyes. This wasn't the first time this happened to her. Her weakness was hitting her all over again.

She wasn’t supposed to be able to feel this stressed, but the hot tears were pouring out of her eyes anyway, no matter her attempts to wipe them. She was falling apart once again, the strangest sensation of feeling a heart in her chest, feeling it being ripped apart as she utterly failed to withhold the emotions, and all her senses dimmed to darkness as the pain coursed through her.

The emptiness within her, so long undisturbed, became jarring. Something was screaming, shouting for freedom, and she needed to silence it again. She needed to shut it off. Only distantly could she hear the sound of her own sobs and cries, though she felt the heaving motions of her chest as she gasped for air.

Her throat was sore by the time it faded, and she was on the ground, her back to the cupboards and her face buried in her arms. Her sleeves were soaked from her tears. She swallowed, feeling her heart pounding so fast compared to the way it usually did, so intense, and her breaths wouldn’t come steady, interrupted and stuttering and failing to get through. She forced herself to swallow, tried to make the breathing come naturally for once, and then she looked up, her eyesight still blurry from the water in her eyes.

Sombra had moved closer. She was standing just a few feet away, staring at her. There was nothing readable on the other woman’s face. Absolutely still, blank. She wasn’t smiling; she wasn’t frowning. Her eyes weren’t lit with life like usual, but nor were they empty. Amélie stood, ignoring the hot tears that still rushed from her eyes, and she met Sombra’s gaze again — at least she had the advantage of her height now, though it was lesser without her heels, and with this distance still between them. After what felt like an eternity, Sombra’s eyes flickered away as she thought.

Lacroix held herself very stiff as she waited to see what the woman would say, how exactly she intended to break this tension, what attempts she had to make this situation normal. And then Sombra smiled. Just what Widowmaker had expected.

“How does it feel, being broken like the rest of us?”

Her eyes were alive now, her smile euphoric. She was so delighted to see Widowmaker this weak.

And Amélie crumbled inside all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ): if you ever want to talk to me i'll be in the constantly sad about widowmaker room


	5. dorado

Sombra hated Dorado.

For all the time she willingly spent here, it was still the case, and when she looked at the welcoming sign as their vehicle glided in she felt wrong immediately. There was too much bad blood here. She’d never be able to wash it away.

“Home sweet home,” she said, injecting cheer into her voice as she leaned back. Widow, by her side, didn’t answer. They were staying here overnight, a chance for Widowmaker to look into the mark Sombra had given her during their first deal.

They hadn’t commented on Widow’s little episode since it happened. Sombra left her be — she wasn’t sure if it was callous or kind of her, given their situation, and she wasn’t sure what she’d been aiming for. But they'd both stayed silent, pretending everything was normal, and then they slept.

“I suppose you’ve arranged another hotel?” Widowmaker asked, her voice so soft yet so filled with disdain. Only she could manage that.

“Not this time. We’re on my turf now. I have my own place here.”

“I’d rather not,” Widowmaker said, her voice a delicate drawl. “I’ll get myself a room.”

“If you want to spend money, I guess you can.” It wasn’t really surprising that Widow would just want to get away from her, but it was far more boring. Even with someone like Widowmaker, Sombra enjoyed company, enjoyed playing with someone so buttoned-up. Maybe even especially with someone like Widow — she was easy enough on the eyes. “Just make sure you get a trashy one. Boss did say to lay low, after all.”

Widow just glanced at her, her golden eyes cold. “I thought you didn’t much care for command’s orders.”

“When they’re good ideas it’s another matter,” Sombra said easily. Widowmaker stared at her lifelessly for a moment, enough time for Sombra to look away, to assume the conversation had ended.

“Why are you in Talon?”

It was an abrupt question, and Sombra had to stop herself from visibly doing a double-take. She laughed. “Why do you think? They have resources.”

“Hmm,” Widowmaker’s voice was still so superior and distant. “You don’t care for our purpose at all?”

“What purpose? Conflict to advance humanity?” Sombra laughed again — and it was a different laugh than usual, less performative and more actual amusement. “Have you seen real conflict, Widowmaker?”

Widowmaker was blatantly confused by the question. “Is there any point in asking?”

“I mean _real_ conflict, genius. When you’re not the asshole starting it, and you’re not in a position to defend yourself. _Mierda_ , I doubt anyone in Talon has.”

Sombra wasn’t sure why she was even saying this, letting herself get so emotional that her voice rose, her heart started pumping faster, that she pushed away the instinct to switch to her first language. Maybe something about the all-too familiar streets of Dorado. Maybe it was knowing Widowmaker that much better.

“Do you think it made you weaker?” Widow asked after a second, and Sombra’s sharp intake of breath was unplanned, unusual for her.

“What?”

“Where would you be today, if this city had been shrouded in peace during the omnic crisis? After a happy childhood with your happy parents?” Her accent skidded over the words, simultaneously hateful and delightful. “Do you think you’d have uncovered the secrets you know today, or made friends anywhere near as powerful?”

“Hundreds of kids were in my position, and a bit of conflict only got them addicted to drugs and living on the gutters. That’s advancement of humanity for you. Oye, we could probably find one right now.”

“I’ll pass,” Widowmaker said smoothly. “It only takes one person thriving for conflict to be worthwhile. You advanced, and now you’re changing the course of history, no matter what became of the rest.”

Sombra snorted. “What makes you think I’m here to change history? I have little goals.” She held her index finger and her thumb close together to illustrate her point.

“If that was really the case, Talon’s resources must be overkill.”

Sombra shrugged, and after that she let silence fall, leaving the conversation to die. They reached Sombra’s base soon after, walking inside with that quiet air thick between them.

“I should have expected that you’d live in a warehouse,” disdain laced Widow's voice, and it just made Sombra smile.

“You didn’t really think I’d take you to the place where I live, did you?” Sombra laughed. “And there are some pretty decent makeshift bedrooms towards the back.”

“I won’t be needing one,” Widow answered quickly.

“Sheesh, alright, fancy-pants. We’ve got all day though. Might as well stay for a coffee.”

Widowmaker sighed, but still she stayed for some reason, accepting a coffee and stewing in some deep thoughts. Sombra watched her for a few minutes, deep in thought herself.

She had an important question in mind: how would a sniper help her? What goals of hers could use an assassination? Eventually, she was sucked into her screens, thinking hard about it and developing plans, and it was lucky that Widowmaker’s steps were so loud in the cold and open kitchen, because she seemed to be leaving.

But when Sombra glanced over, Widow’s weapon — often stored in an ornate box when she didn’t need to use it — was in her hands, the box open on her former seat. It only occurred to Sombra then that really, there was no reason for Widow to want Sombra alive, though Widow didn’t aim the rifle at her.

“I wouldn’t bother,” she said immediately, and Widow turned slightly, eyeing her. “I made a few preparations. Your secret’s sure to become common knowledge if I’m not around.”

Widowmaker darkened, a thick aura of misery around her. “How did you learn in the first place?”

“Oh, you know,” Sombra shrugged. “Just a bit of research.”

“That’s all?”

Sombra snorted. “You don’t really think I’d tell you, do you?”

“Mm, I didn’t expect so.”

Widowmaker sighed, and Sombra watched as she went to pick up her case and left without another word.

Shit.

She was quick on writing up a program that would add weight to her bluff, something that would check for her vital signs. In the case where there was no response after twenty-four hours, she wrote up a message for Moira O’Deorain, who’d be _interested_ to know about Widowmaker’s developments.

Things were so precarious now. Sombra rolled her eyes as she overlooked the simple script — she couldn’t wait for it all to simplify.

  

* * *

 

“Morning,” Sombra yawned when she saw Widowmaker, who stared her down, unimpressed. “How’d you sleep?”

“I took out that mark you gave me.”

Sombra grinned — the LumériCo exec who’d been getting a little too close to some of her plans. “De pelos! I have to admit, assassination is a little barbaric but it sure simplifies things.”

“Barbaric?” Widow repeated, almost sounding too affronted to maintain her cool chic vibe. Sombra liked her best when she was caught off-guard. But then Widow scoffed, brushing off the remark. “I also stopped by a café. There’s a nice little one just off the main road, le saviez-vous?”

Sombra immediately felt like she’d been dropped from a plane. The smirk was wiped from her face, and suddenly, it was with complete seriousness that she stared at Widowmaker.

“I did a bit of research,” Widow cooed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this is a sort of cheap way to end it, and don't worry i haven't given any indication that you've missed as to why sombra reacts this way. i'll try to get the next chapter out asap so as not to leave y'all in the dark too long. thanks for reading!!


	6. weaknesses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ♥

Lacroix liked Sombra best when she was caught off-guard.

It hadn’t been easy; with Sombra's capability of watching her every online move she had to use the most advanced channels she could to get the information, and Akande hadn’t been eager to give it up. She’d convinced him, though. He came around easily when she pointed out how unreliable Sombra was, how if she was working by her side she’d need something on her.

And even then, there had been little information. All they’d found of her true name was initials. Her background, vague and with little information.

But there was one more, small thing: a point where a transaction she made had left a trace, in spite of Sombra's best efforts in securing it. It had been so encrypted, so complex to garner information on, that Talon hadn’t seen fit to pursue the matter — aware of her every other action and comfortable knowing that she was already not to be trusted. But after hours of staring at it, running it through decryption programs galore and scouring the internet for knowledge, she found one specific thing:

A postcode. Dorado’s postcode.

She was sending something — most likely money — back to her hometown. But she’d been orphaned. So Widow looked into it that much closer, finding the most local, small-time news reports from the right time period, and it had been a long shot but she saw the news of the Zavala family who’d _oh so kindly_ been helping out the orphans left behind in the omnic crisis. And when she looked into it further, it turned out that the very same married couple were now running their own café.

It hadn’t been easy. In fact, Lacroix’s eyes stung with lack of sleep, and it was still such a long shot. But based on the way Sombra’s face fell, the multiple seconds it took for her to pull herself back together — it was completely worth it. Lacroix was best with long shots, after all.

“How are the Zavalas?” Sombra asked, easy-going nature switched back on.

“Tell me just how much you want to know,” Lacroix said, unable to hold down her smile. Sombra snorted.

“Why? You want me to beg at your feet for information? I could just call them up in a minute.”

Widowmaker wouldn’t mind Sombra begging at her feet. But instead she turned away. “And if they didn’t answer?”

“They’ll answer,” Sombra said, far too quickly. “Otherwise, you’d have blown your shot.”

“True enough,” Widowmaker said with a small smile. “I think our arrangement needs some changes.”

“Well there's a shock,” Sombra sighed. “Alright, araña. What have you got for me?”

“Drop our last alterations. I only need answer to Talon.”

Sombra squinted for just a second, nose scrunching as if she thought Lacroix was an idiot. “I _could_. But don’t you want a brilliant hacker at your fingertips? Think of the things you could learn.”

“I hardly believe you’d be willing to share whatever discoveries you make.”

“Why not? If it's the sort of thing you'd care about it probably wouldn't hurt me to pass it along.”

“I don’t care about anything,” Lacroix said, and Sombra smiled sheepishly.

“ _FIne_. I’ll drop it. You can follow Talon orders to your heart’s content.”

“Good,” Widow said, but insecurity hit just as Sombra started to walk away. This was a waste, wasn’t it? Because Sombra wasn’t the only reason why her situation was precarious. “Wait. No.”

Sombra laughed from behind her, so joyously. “Came crawling back around?”

“I want… anything you find on Talon’s council.”

It was wrong. This was the worst thing she’d ever done, and if they ever learned about it, they’d kill her. But she could make that more difficult for them, if nothing else.

Sombra snickered as Lacroix turned, facing her. “Sure, princess. I look forward to those three favours.”

She didn’t wait for Lacroix to say respond before turning and leaving, but Lacroix still did. “Yes. And they can never know.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Sombra said easily, and Lacroix nodded to herself.

Finally Sombra had a weakness, at any rate. The Zavalas.

* * *

“How was your trip?”

“Mission complete. Target had to be neutralised.”

“Good,” Akande said pleasantly, his eyes cold even when his smile was warm. “And I suppose your presence was overkill?”

“Their security was low. I imagine anyone with a decent rifle could have achieved it.”

“Ah well,” Akande said. “And you, Sombra? Did you get what you wanted?”

“You know me, Doomfist. My wants are simple — hot ladies and peeled grapes. I didn’t find either.”

“Unfortunate!” Doomfist doubled the word with a bark of laughter as he turned, gesturing for them to follow. “Athans Inc has been up to some strange shit, Sombra. Look into it.”

“Sure,” she said. “What sort of shit?”

“Making some suspect purchases. Looks like they’re trying to expand their demographic, maybe rebrand.”

Sombra whistled. “It’s always fun when a company I nailed tries again. I’ll check it out.”

“And Lacroix — I think Moira wanted to see you for a check-up. Something about an incident a few weeks ago?”

She didn’t let her stride break, pretended her heartbeat didn’t spike. The only expression of discomfort was a glance, just for a second, at Sombra, who winked in return.

Chilling. “Very well,” Lacroix exhaled. “Did she want to see me immediately?”

“Yeah. She was getting ready for your return. Should be in her lab.”

“Very well,” Lacroix said as they walked into Talon’s HQ. “I’ll go there right away.”

“I want a longer report when you’re done, okay?”

“Of course,” Lacroix said, though she wasn’t sure that that would be happening. It all depended on how this ‘check-up’ went — and Lacroix wasn’t optimistic. “I’ll speak to you then.”

She strode away, navigating halls she knew better than she knew herself. Even after everything, Dr O’Deorain’s lab had been… uncomfortable for her. She’d never thought much of it; just a simple feeling that something was off whenever she was inside.

Now, she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to hold herself together within. But it was important this time. Far more important than it had been when Sombra saw her unravel. She assumed.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if O’Deorain fixed her again, anyway. Maybe if she mentioned the pain from the last attempt, the chills that ran down her spine even now when she remembered it, it wouldn’t happen again.

But she’d screamed, sobbed, shivered. O’Deorain knew. There was no way around it. She gulped before entering the lab, one final show of emotion before she pretended she remained herself. It was so bright in here, and O’Deorain’s coat matched it, blending into the blinding brightness of everything except for her fiery red hair.

“Ah, Lacroix,” she said with a smirk. “How was your trip? Take a seat in the bed over there.”

Amélie hated the stretcher. She nodded, walking over without a word. Moira’s question wasn’t one she expected to be answered, nor did she care about the answer. Widowmaker sat down, drawing in a breath as she glanced at O’Deorain, preparing the light to be shone into her eyes.

The questions she’d ask. The little tapes all over Lacroix’s head, rushing currents through her until she couldn’t think, couldn’t remember how to lie, what self-protection was, who she was. The rushes of pain when she gave the true yet wrong answer to one of Moira’s very simple questions. That blindingly bright moment when she finally saw the right one.

“Doctor!” Lacroix flinched at the sudden noise, so hard that she felt her heart beating for a moment in her chest. “Wow, I’m glad I caught you in time. Some of your creatures seem to have gotten out of their pens. I did what I could but I didn’t want to mess up your research—”

O’Deorain sighed. “I’m sure that’s the case, cailín,” she said coldly. “I’ll go and investigate.”

“Uhh, sorry,” Sombra smiled cheekily in away that betrayed her disingenuousness, and Moira just tutted as she left the room. The moment she was gone Sombra’s face dropped.

“Whew, that was close,” she said, pacing down the lab.

“I don’t think she’ll be pleased with you touching her gear,” Lacroix said with a sigh as she stood up, noting the way Sombra’s fingers were being dragged against Moira’s tech. She realised a bit late. “Ah.”

Sombra giggled. “Worked it out? Can’t delay forever, but I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you.”

The words came out strange, jagged when she meant them so honestly. For just a fraction of a second, Sombra stopped walking, met her eyes briefly before she walked on again.

The air between them had never been this… earnest. It was unsettling.

“A deal is a deal,” Sombra said with a shrug. “Don’t read too much into it.”


	7. athans inc

“It’s bedding,” Sombra said with a smile. “They’re manufacturing bedding. Cheap as possible, so they can appeal to the poorest people.”

“Hmm,” Reaper mumbled, and Doomfist nodded to himself.

“What’s behind it? What are the motivations of the new boss?”

“I don’t know how he got into power, honestly. From everything I’ve seen — and trust me, I’ve seen a lot — he wants to… _help_ people.”

Doomfist laughed, and even Moira had a grim smile (even after Sombra earned her anger in playing coy when all her gear had suddenly stopped working.) “That makes things easy, doesn’t it?”

“Sure. I guess. What’s your plan?”

Doomfist and Reaper met eyes for a moment.

“Tear them down,” Reaper answered eventually, turning and meeting her eyes. Her smile tried to falter, but she countered it by strengthening it, and nodding with all the joyous confidence in the world.

Tear them down.

“Not a problem.”

* * *

 

“It doesn’t look like they’re having much trouble, Sombra.”

Sombra sighed, looking away from her screens to Doomfist. “Look, I—”

“From what you’ve told us, Athans’ developments are well-considered. If it goes to plan for them they’ll be bringing Poland back together in a matter of years. They’ll grow stagnant, and it’s on you to prevent that.”

“I know,” Sombra insisted, sucking in a breath through her teeth. “I’m working on it, okay? Their tech is good. They’ve hired some clever people.”

“You’ve been working on this for hours,” Akande sounded surprised — perplexed, even. It was unlike Sombra to need this long. Sombra sighed.

“Look, I know, you’re not going to tell me something I haven’t told myself. I’m _working_ on it. I guess it’s just an off-day.”

“You don’t—” Doomfist sighed, bringing his hand up to scratch his head. “ _Fine_. Don’t take too much longer. We’re probably going to need another assassination, and this one will need to succeed this time.”

“Don’t worry so much, Doomfist. I’m not the best hacker alive for nothing.”

He just grunted as he moved away. “I don’t have the time to keep talking. But it had better be done soon.”

“No promises,” she mumbled to herself, looking back at the jumbled encryptions, the series of thousand-character long passcodes that shut down after two failed attempts, the red herrings all over the place.

_God_ , it was still simple code. In all honestly, she could crack it with the wave of her hand. Every step along the way she saw what she’d need to do to get past, saw every weakness and every little mistake in their security. Off the top of her head she could think of at least 3 of the programs she'd written that would crack this.

So she frowned to herself as she let herself trip their shutdown. She leaned back, resting her head on her hands, staring at the flashing red screen.

“Damn,” she said idly to herself, kicking up her feet on the desk. “Guess I messed up.”

A second later another notification appeared atop the blaring sirens, and, squinting, Sombra repositioned herself to look closer.

_\- - - - FWD FROM KATYA.VOLSKAYA@VOLSKAYA.ADMIN - - - -_  
_RECIPIENT: VOLSKAYAPROFESSIONAL@VOLSKAYA.ENQUIRIES_  
_FROM: LUCILA.SALAS@LUMÉRICO.OFFERS_

With a grin she brought it up, tearing her way through the message — _“We’ve heard of your open-minded approach to technological advancements,” “We’re interested in creating a partnership.” Most ominous of all: “There are like-minded companies to which we could direct you.”_

Such a simple sentence, but Sombra knew the dark underbelly it was hiding. The first time she’d seen too much in a sentence like that she’d found herself contacted by every possible means with a repeated message, detailing deeply personal information on loop until a character limit was reached.

Not this time.

She saved the email, smirking to herself about Katya’s cooperation. It was all falling into place, though her smile dropped as she glanced at the still-red warning behind the message — at least in the long run.

* * *

“Whew, getting into your room wasn’t easy.”

Widowmaker looked up from where she sat, cross-legged on her bed with some tech she’d been reading on her lap. Sombra’s heart jumped seeing her in small pajamas — even though she’d already seen it. Widowmaker slept in clothing that pressed at the line between comfort and lingerie, silky and lacey and perfectly showing her shape. Red against a light blue.

“It’s not supposed to be,” she answered as Sombra tore her eyes away as quickly as she could, instead looking over her room.

“Small place. They didn’t care to get you a better one?”

“I stay here rarely, Sombra. You know I own a chateau, _oui_?”

Sombra shrugged. “Sure. I just figured— never mind, I want to talk about our deal.”

With that, Widowmaker sighed, unfolding her long legs off her bed and then standing. Her room wasn’t that small, really, and it was so tidy and sparse that it seemed even less so, but still it put them standing close together.

“You have more adjustments? Another surprise for me?”

“No, nothing like that,” Sombra laughed, waving a hand and wondering for a second why she was dodging eye contact. “I have a plan, and I’m going to need you in on it. I’m calling in one of those favours we arranged.”

“Ah,” Widowmaker said, her voice strangely melodic, and for some very strange reason, she took a step closer.

It was that that set alarm bells off, making Sombra fight the instinct to step back. That was just showing weakness, right? Her eyes flickered down, taking in the proximity, and she tried not to gulp too obviously. Suddenly Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed, a little smirk appearing on her lips.

“You have something good in mind for me?” she asked, and now there was an extra sweetness in her delicate voice. She took another step closer.

Shit. Sombra needed to speak, but she seemed to have forgotten how to use her throat. “They want me to bring down Athans Inc,” Sombra said, forcing out the words. “Maybe you can assist me in that going wrong. When they send you to kill Patli Garneau, you should fail.”

Widowmaker nodded, holding steady eye contact as she took yet another step closer, close enough that Sombra would feel her body heat were she anyone else. Sombra’s whole body was tense as she tried to breathe steady, still not sure what Widow was doing.

“Are you really this easy to manipulate?” Widowmaker breathed, leaning in slightly with one of those _goddamn_ smiles on her lips. Sombra couldn’t look away.

She forced a laugh, but she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say, and Widowmaker kept closing that distance, until for a moment Sombra was sure they were about to kiss.

Then she stopped, and Sombra tried to breathe but she still couldn’t, frozen in this proximity. After a few seconds of immeasurable agony, feeling Widowmaker's cold breath on her lips, her instinct took over, and she was leaning in.

Then Widowmaker was a step away from her, laughing, and Sombra just closed her eyes in dread.

“Good to know,” she said, her voice still so perfect. “I’ll keep the man alive for you.”

“Uhh, good,” Sombra’s head was still spinning, hardly even managing to find the words. She began to leave, paused to speak, then just left without bothering. There was no fixing that she’d lost there. She shut the door behind her, locked it, and tried not to groan out loud.

“Fuck me,” she muttered to herself as she moved away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! that was some homosexual activity imo


	8. broken

Lacroix told Sombra to cover for her before she left, leaving Sombra perplexed but cooperative enough — probably especially after last night. Let alone being grateful that Lacroix had pretended it never happened. And now, after a short journey, she found herself walking into a small, familiar room, one that Angela rented to try and keep their meetings as secret as possible.

“Amélie,” Angela Ziegler said, with a soft smile. The name felt like daggers aimed at her, instantly put her defenses up. “How have you… been?”

She searched Lacroix’s eyes, so soft and delicate, and Lacroix frowned. Angela was still searching for a person she’d never see again.

“Fine,” she said, uncomfortable all over again with Angela’s gentle atmosphere, her genuine smiles and the way she seemed to care. Angela nodded slowly, glancing down a a piece of paper she’d brought for whatever reason.

“Have your developments given you any problems? Any sense of physical weakness, drowsiness, maybe panic attacks?”

“Yes.”

Angela smiled after a second. “Great. That’s a start. Which ones?”

“It…” Lacroix trailed off, quickly realising how embarrassing it was to say out loud. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters. How else can they stop?”

The strange thing was that admitting her breakdowns to Dr O’Deorain sounded significantly less humiliating. The only thing stopping her was fear of the inevitable pain that would follow.

It was compassion. Compassion that made her want to leave right away, for fear of what it would do to her.

“Breakdowns,” Lacroix finally admitted, sitting down in one of the seats. Angela hummed.

“Alright. Are their any triggers that you know of?”

“Memories from before,” Lacroix said before she thought about it, and she realised how glossy Angela’s eyes became for a moment. “For the most part.”

“I see,” she said slowly. “Does it happen often?”

“Since I saw Dr O’Deorain? Only three times.”

At that, Angela became very still. “Ah,” she said at first, sinking inwards for a moment. “Wh…what did you see her about?”

They’d been acquainted. Lacroix didn’t think about it further. “I told her what was happening. She tried to remedy it.”

Angela gulped. “Tried to… break you again.”

A little knot appeared between Lacroix’s eyebrows as she digested the word choice. “She tried to fix me.”

She remembered Sombra’s little smile, the delight in her voice when she suggested the exact opposite.

_How does it feel, being broken like the rest of us?_

“No,” Angela said quickly. “These emotions, these breakdowns — that’s you coming back together, Amélie. It’s always the most painful when you start to repair yourself.”

“I would much rather be the way she made me,” Lacroix answered dryly, and Angela somehow became even paler.

“Was it her? Did _she_ really do that to you?”

“Of course.”

Her face fell, and Widowmaker genuinely wondered for a moment if she was going to cry. “That’s terrible,” she said eventually. “I never thought she’d…”

“Of course she would. She’s efficient.” Angela turned away, still deep in shock, and Lacroix sighed. “Should I go?”

“No!” she quickly looked back, managing a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry on her behalf, too, that you went through that. That I ever—” Angela cut herself off, sighing. “Sit back down, let’s discuss this. I just — it doesn’t matter. You say memories are the trigger?”

“Yes.”

“What sort of memories? Do you mind describing the effect they have?”

Lacroix bit down her irritation, her desire to leave. “Pictures. Scents. Those were the only two times, and the effect doesn’t matter.”

Angela licked her lips, clearly still shaken but also trying to hide it. She nodded rather than press the matter. “Alright. I understand. Can I measure your heartbeat?”

_It’s above quota_. She wiped Sombra’s voice from her head, forcing a nod, and Mercy took something out of one of her pockets, appraching carefully and pressing it against her neck. Lacroix leaned her head back to accomodate it.

“It’s… slow.”

“How slow?”

She didn’t want to know. She dreaded the answer.

“It’s an average of about 27 right now. How are you alive?”

That was beyond above quota. She’d need to talk to Sombra about this — because the others would certainly learn, if they ever saw fit to look at her stats like Sombra had.

“Am I?” was all she asked, and Angela sighed, leaning back for a moment.

“What did they do to you?”

“What they needed to,” Lacroix answered coldly, meeting her eyes. Angela didn’t like that answer, clearly.

“They didn’t need to do a thing. And it didn’t work, either. That you’re here is proof enough of that.”

Amélie looked away slowly, and Angela sighed.

“Amélie, why did you come here?”

“I’m not sure myself.”

“You want to be alive again,” Angela answered for her, voice so very soft. “You’d need someone far more specialised in psychology than me to do a proper job at it, and far more than monthly visits. But we’re going to do this. We’re going to get you patched up.”

Widowmaker gulped, and she didn’t try to hide it, didn’t fear the aftermath of showing the emotion.

“This would be your version of being fixed, I take it?”

_How does it feel?_

_Being broken like the rest of us?_

“Yes, of course. And soon, you’ll agree with my version as well.”

_Like the rest of us._ Lacroix had never actually thought about that part of it before.

Sombra was broken, too.

“I find that difficult to believe,” she said slowly, head suddenly spinning.

Sombra was broken, and somehow that changed everything.

* * *

Lacroix strode into the computer room Sombra had claimed for her own, some pillows lazily thrown in the corner and an entire wall dedicated to monitors.

“Sombra,” she said, and Sombra turned unnaturally fast. She wouldn’t have noticed that before. “Tell me my pulse.”

With a shrug, Sombra turned back to the screens, waving a hand, and one of the nearest ones flashed on — her BPM, her body temperature, her brain activity.

_12\. 14. 10. 11. 13._

She was breathing out a sigh of relief when she saw Sombra’s tap the screen once, and then the numbers changed very, very suddenly.

_23\. 25. 24. 28. 25._

“You’re obscuring it,” she said.

“Oh, yeah. It’s been rising pretty steadily. I don’t even know how much longer you’ll be blue,” Sombra chuckled as Lacroix glared at her. It was hard to imagine Sombra as a broken person, when she was so bright and upbeat.

“What are the Zavalas to you?”

Sombra stopped laughing quickly, turning a more serious eye to Widowmaker.

“Did they take care of you, after you were orphaned?”

“…No, I had Los Muertos.” Sombra sighed, waving her arm again — Lacroix watched as the numbers flickered back down, and then the screen flashed back to her classic sugar skull. “They took care of my sister.”

Lacroix narrowed her eyes. That was new. “You… have a sister?”

Sombra laughed dryly, for just a bit too long. “Not anymore. Don’t you have better things to do, araña?”

“How are you like that?” Widowmaker asked, surprising even herself as she stared slightly too hard at Sombra. “How can you laugh at things like that?”

“You laugh about death all the time,” Sombra shrugged, and Lacroix shook her head.

“The world tossed you aside, leaving you for dead, and you had nothing left but an identity you pulled together from scrap pieces. Why, exactly, are you so cheerful?”

Sombra wasn’t cheerful now, and there was a rare sharpness in her air as she stared at Amélie.

“I think you should get out,” she finally said, narrowing her eyes just a little bit and tilting her head like she was making ordinary conversation. Widowmaker drew in a long, careful breath.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said slowly, backing away. “I’ll see you later, about Garneau.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have been. so excited for this chapter. i hope you liked it :)


	9. friends

“Got it.”

“It took too long,” Reaper’s immediate growl made it hard to fight her smirk.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve hacked into Athans’ and now I know how to get to them.”

“Sombra, I want an honest answer. Are you trying to sabotage this?”

She didn’t let herself waver. “Please, you don’t think I’d try that again this quickly, do you?”

“I don’t know.”

Sombra sighed. “Well, I’m not. And I’ve got it, so now it’s up to you and Widow.”

Reaper’s breath was loud, echoing as always. “You think we should go ahead with the assassination?”

“You’ll probably want to, yeah,” she said, distinctly not answering his question. He nodded.

“Alright. You won’t be accompanying her on this mission.”

“Good,” Sombra laughed, beginning to move away. “She’s bad company anyway.”

She mumbled the last words, mostly to herself. The questions had rung in her mind for too long. _You had nothing left but an identity you pulled together from scrap pieces._ Did she really seem so pathetic to Widowmaker? And what exactly was Widow’s interest in asking?

She knew she’d lost the high ground the moment Widowmaker mentioned the Zavala’s cafe. But she wasn’t sure when she’d lost even the equal standing, when the tides had turned so far that Widowmaker was — what, pitying her? Or maybe just trying to dig her claws into old scars?

She still tried not to think of that night when Sombra had almost kissed her. Now, clear-headed, she felt like such an idiot. And now Widow was playing with her, poking at her old wounds to see if they’d bleed.

It had worked. Sombra hadn’t thought of Rosa in years. She’d thought, just for a moment when Widow asked about the Zavalas, that she’d be okay talking about her after all this time.

But she found comfort in that it didn’t really matter if she was okay. It hadn’t mattered in a long time.

* * *

“Hey, Moira,” Sombra said cheerfully as she strode into the woman’s lab, and Moira answered as usual with a beleaguered sigh. “What can’t you get working this time?”  


Sombra knew, because she’d set it up to stop working at just the same time as Widow’s next checkup. The next attempt at a checkup, anyway.

“It was working ten minutes ago,” Moira said defensively. “I’m not sure what it did.”

Sombra grinned at the older woman, stepping forwards. She didn’t look at Widowmaker, seated so quiet and demure on an uncomfortable looking bed which had been pulled out of the wall. “I’ll get it sorted.” She approached the large white screen, which was displaying static and letting out a light humming noise.

Moira sighed. “Very well. In the meantime, Widowmaker, are they any major changes in your health that I should know about since I last…” Sombra saw the way she glanced at her for a second. Doctor-patient confidentiality was apparently something Moira took seriously. “Spoke with you?”

Oh, yes, there were. Sombra smirked to herself as she fiddled with the tech — some sort of scanning device, she guessed, like an X-ray. For brains, probably, based on some the wording in its programming.

If she knew more about brains, she’d probably be more comfortable messing with it. But she did manage to find an old scan of Widow’s head, and convinced the gadget to pull it up on its next test rather than whatever pictures it ended up taking.

“Nothing of importance,” Widowmaker lied smoothly.

“Good. Have you gotten that working, Sombra?”

“Sure have,” Sombra stepped back, smiling at Moira and still avoiding Widowmaker’s eyes. Neither of them were expecting Widow to speak when she did.

“May I ask you a personal question?”

Sombra gave in and glanced at her, who was staring straight at Moira as if she wasn’t even aware of Sombra’s presence.

That irritated her, for some reason. She’d been avoiding her all day for nothing.

“Perhaps…” Moira said, turning back to the gear and dragging it towards Widow’s bed. Widow glanced at it, then at Sombra, delivering a message before she continued her conversation.

“What is your relation to Dr Angela Ziegler?”

Moira stopped walking in her tracks, staring blank-faced at Widowmaker. “Why do you ask that?”

 _Interesting_. Sombra wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Moira thrown quite like that. After a second, Sombra realised that Widowmaker was searching for an answer, so Sombra laughed loud enough to distract the doctor.

“I found some info. I was curious to see how you’d react if she surprised you with that.”

Moira was not amused. “If anything, I’m surprised Lacroix would go along with it,” Moira said calmly, finally bringing the wheeled object close enough to the bed. “Lay down, Lacroix.”

After meeting Sombra’s eyes again, apparently disappointed with Sombra's shrug, Widowmaker obeyed, and Sombra had never seen her so wordlessly obedient before. Moira shifted her scanner so that Widow’s head fit within the cresent form in its height, and as she grew absorbed in the screen it gave her, Sombra found herself watching Widow.

Her fist slowly clenching, so tense that her whole hand was shaking slightly. Sombra was annoyed, for a few seconds, that she was giving away so much of herself, but then she realised how this must feel for her.

And then she realised she’d crossed an unthinkable line. She was feeling empathy for Widowmaker. She pursed her lips, turning back to Moira and pretending everything was normal.

She supposed they were all pretending. Moira, pretending some past ghosts hadn’t just been brought up ostensibly for a joke. Widowmaker, trying to pretend she still couldn’t feel a thing.

And Sombra, not even fully sure what was happening in her head, but certain she needed to hide it.

Moira, thankfully, was so used to Sombra’s antics — and rather more tolerant of them than most — that she didn’t demand Sombra leave, and it allowed her to subtly control the following results the doctor saw. Widowmaker relaxed from the moment Moira declared her head scans were normal, so the rhythm carried on through the entire checkup — there were times when Sombra’s hacking was useless, and all she could do was watch with her fingers crossed.

But Widowmaker — Lacroix — made it through the test unscathed. Sombra only hung around for a second after she’d left the lab, cutting her brief chat with Moira short to follow the woman out.

“Widow,” she said, moving at a small run to catch up to the long-legged woman. “That was tense, huh?”

“Yes,” was all Widow said, and Sombra rolled her eyes.

“Here I thought you’d get more talkative when you start becoming a person again.”

Lacroix stopped walking suddenly, turning a cold look to Sombra. “I’d been enjoying your silence.”

Sombra snorted — thank god, she’d actually noticed. “You shouldn’t have let yourself get used to it. How’d you learn about the Ziegler thing?”

“Through herself. What about you?”

“You, just then,” Sombra said. “You’re meeting with a famous Overwatch operative?”

“ _Don’t_ say it so loud,” Widow snapped, and Sombra just shrugged — she’d not even been loud, really, and no one ever willingly went anywhere near Moira’s lab. Which was soundproofed.

“Fine. You’re so fussy.”

The silence that fell wasn’t filled with animosity like it once had been, or tension. It was just uncomfortable. Eventually, Widowmaker sighed.

“I shouldn’t have asked you about your sister.”

It hit her slowly. “You’re… apologising?”

Widowmaker snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Wow. I never thought I’d live to see you apologise about something.” Widowmaker just sighed, making Sombra laugh. She’d thanked her, earlier, too. It didn’t follow, when there was so much animosity between them, a constant battle to be the one holding the other down. Sombra wished she had something to offer, too, some way to return the olive branch, but there was nothing she was willing to say out loud.

“My intention wasn't to reopen old wounds, in case that's what you were thinking.”

Sombra gritted her teeth. She didn't want to think about it anymore.

“No?”

When Widowmaker sighed Sombra wondered if she was just putting off whatever she wanted to say.

“Do you remember what you said to me after my breakdown?”

“Kind of,” Sombra said, thinking back on the uncomfortable moment. Widowmaker with tears pouring down her face — she'd been avoiding the memory lately, for some reason.

“You asked me how it felt being broken.”

“Sounds like something I'd say.”

“Why?”

Sombra’s mind was somehow caught on the question once Widow asked it. “I thought you were explaining sticking your nose in my tragic life, not asking more questions.”

“I am.”

Sombra sighed. “I don't know. It was a weird situation. I didn't want it to get weirder.”

Probably an insensitive way to frame it. But Sombra had never been a sensitive person.

“ _Broken like the rest of us_ , you said. As if you were broken too. But you don't have those breakdowns.”

“Not recently.” Sombra hated that answer immediately after giving it.

“As much as it pains me to say it, Sombra… I admire you. I wanted to properly understand the extent of what you were enduring, to see if it was even possible for me.”

“Enduring pain? That's what you admire me for? Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?”

Her heart sped up at the thought of Widow admiring her. She hated that, too, pushed away the concept.

Part of her wanted to be more welcoming to this sort of conversation, but the rest of herself completely refused.

“No. It is not a compliment.”

Sombra sighed. “I'm not a role model. When something makes me feel things, I just stop thinking. I forget about it and think I’m fine until someone springs it on me years later and then suddenly it won’t get out of my head.”

The sound of her father asking her to take care of Rosa. The feeling of her mother touching her cheek.

“Honestly, I think you're better off the way you're becoming. Once you’ve actually felt the hurt, it doesn't get that bad again.”

Widowmaker hummed, and they didn't have a destination as they wandered the halls. Just moving, side by side. In silence that was almost companionable.

“Do you think we're becoming friends?” Widowmaker asked suddenly, apparently thinking the same thing, and Sombra laughed.

“Sure. We've been _friends_ ever since I worked out your little secret.”

“Hmm,” Widowmaker’s voice was superior and dainty. “Is that so?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, sombra starting to realise repressing every emotion she's ever felt is a bad idea actually. lmao. thank you for reading!!


	10. followed

“Failed.”

Sombra grinned at her, giving her two thumbs up as Reaper’s silence emanated from the earpiece. “How?”

Lacroix met eyes with Sombra, who shrugged quickly, dropping her hands. In spite of herself she had to fight down a smile at Sombra’s ridiculous behaviour, and she looked away to better focus on her conversation.

“Target had better security than Sombra expected. Take it up with her.”

Reaper sighed, a strange sound over the commpiece. “Very well. I’ll expect you back here in forty minutes.”

“You really had to throw me under the bus like that, huh?” Sombra took the first chance she could once the conversation had ended.

“It’s your plan. You deal with the aftermath.” She stood, walking to the window of their ship as it took flight. “You realise they’re just going to keep trying until Garneau is dead, right?”

“I’ll just find a reason why they need him.”

“Why do you want to keep him alive, anyway?”

“No reason.”

Lacroix stared steadily at Sombra, who sheepishly avoided eye contact.

“I don’t think we ever arranged me telling you everything, did we?”

“You won’t even give me that, Sombra?” Lacroix used her most delicate voice, her Widowmaker voice, as she took a step closer. “Not after everything?”

“Don’t do that,” Sombra interrupted quickly.

“What, you didn’t think I’d make use of it when I learned? There’s no crime in wanting to do things to me, Sombra.”

Sombra sighed immediately, turning and walking away — putting distance between them. “Of course I knew you’d do it. Just don’t.”

“Is this a new arrangement? Are you going to offer me something in return not to flirt with you?”

Sombra snorted. “Please. I’m not that desperate.”

“Just tell me why,” Lacroix said with a soft, sad voice, staring right into Sombra’s eyes.

“It’s not that deep,” Sombra sighed. “I’m just not too big on people being wiped out immediately for trying to do some good.”

Lacroix laughed for a second. “Oh, it worked?”

“Cállate,” Sombra groaned.

“That doesn’t sound like a Talon viewpoint.”

“Yeah, well, if you want to report me, I’ve got some good stuff to tell them, too.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Lacroix smirked. “I wasn’t expecting that kind of softness from you.”

A full-body shiver ran through Sombra, but she covered it up quickly. Still Lacroix noticed her clenched fist. “It’s not—”

A jolt struck their ship, turbulence trying to make them lose their balance.

“What’s that?” Sombra asked, making her way to the small cockpit by holding onto the wall handles. “It was supposed to be a smooth trip home.” “It isn’t,” Lacroix observed, and Sombra just sighed as she tapped away — another jolt struck the ship, and

Lacroix knew that it was an impact. “We’re getting shot.”

“Just great observation skills, Widow!”

Lacroix hated being called Widow by Sombra. She brushed it off.

“I can’t tell who it is, but they’ve gotten through our shields and this shuttle was designed more for stealth and speed than, you know, getting shot at.”

“It has guns,” Lacroix said pointedly.

“Not at the right angle. I could reposition us but then it’d—”

The next strike broke through the wall, and Lacroix barely managed to grab onto something in time to avoid getting hit. She glanced over, seeing Sombra doing the same thing, and shouted — “Sombra! What is happening!?”  
Sombra just laughed. “Great question!” She called back as another strike had their ship plummeting down. Lacroix just shut her eyes, desperately hoping she didn’t die here.

She wasn’t sure if she did or not, just that everything was blurry by the time the impact reached them.

 

 

 

“Oh, wake up.”

She blinked a few times, mumbling to herself. “What was it?”

“I don’t know,” Sombra said, letting go of Widow’s shoulders. “You’re cold.”

“Obviously,” Lacroix blinked a few times, and then she realised her head really hurt. “We crashed.”

“Uh huh. I can’t ping anything in the area that attacked us, so I have no idea who it was.”

“Or why, I suppose,” Lacroix pushed herself upright where she sat first, brushing herself off and looking around at the wreckage. “Did we… _just_ crash?”

“No, we crashed hours ago and I just left you here,” Sombra didn’t seem to realise that sarcasm didn’t work when Lacroix genuinely wouldn’t put it past her.

“Give me a minute, my head hurts.”

“Sure. We have all day.”

Lacroix scoffed. “It’s not like we _don’t_ ,” she said as she stood up. “I think the others will understand our tardiness when they learn we were attacked.”

“You must have a different relationship with them, then,” Sombra grinned as she took a few steps away from the ship. Lacroix pushed herself to her feet, looking around at the dead streets and picking up her rifle for good measure.

This was one of the cities torn apart by the omnic crisis, untouched since then. A ghost town.

“Do you think it was an attack specifically on us, or pirates?”

“I’d love to know,” Sombra shrugged. They both froze at the same time when they heard more footsteps, turning at the same second when people came around the corner, all bearing arms pointed directly towards them.

“Shit,” was all Sombra said before vanishing. Suddenly alone in front of a handful of enemies, Widowmaker shot a grappling hook towards a nearby building, bullets trailing after her as she flew to her destination, spraying bullets towards them. From there

she took cover behind the rooftop’s shapely decoration, very carefully looking through her scope at them in spite of the gunfire raining around her.

Black helmets, black armour. Nothing to identify them but some text on their shoulderpads.

She got a headshot in for good measure, then took cover again, until the sound of screams had her glancing back — a crumbled, half destroyed omnic had come limping in, with a distinctive purple glow. She made the most of the chaos, shooting down as many as she could. Sombra reappered then, mostly shooting from behind the omnic. It wasn’t too soon after that the area was devoid of live enemies.

Hooking her grappling hook in the right spot, Lacroix dropped from her roof, and the rope came loose with a simple shake.

“Let’s check out the corpses,” Sombra said with far too much ease, bouncing forth towards the dead bodies.

“Do you have any ideas?”

“There are plenty of people who want me dead. You too, probably. Actually finding me is a different matter.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Sombra laughed. “LumériCo. I’m sure of it.”

She looked into the yellow text on their uniform, and was quickly dragging Lacroix to a smaller building where she took out her purple-toned screens.

“Uh huh, mercenaries. Based in Mexico.” She sighed. “I didn’t exactly think that they’d have given up by now, but they found me.”

“How unfortunate.”

Sombra was quiet for just a bit too long.

“Alright. It doesn’t matter. Let’s head back.”

“Is something wrong?”

Sombra paused, turning to look at Lacroix with a strangely startled look on her face. “Why are you acting like you care?”

“Why wouldn’t I? So much of my security is wrapped up in your wellbeing, after all.”

Sombra nodded, sighing and moving along as Lacroix caught up with long strides.

“They found me. Talon knew about Katya. I’m doing something wrong.”

“Both LumériCo and Talon have far more resources than you do.”

Sombra laughed dryly. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? I’ve got more resources now than ever. I got here from nothing, did far greater things than just hiding my location, but it’s useless if I’m still not good enough.”

It occurred to Lacroix that Sombra trusted her. She wouldn’t talk about these things with anyone else, she was sure of it.

She supposed, in their unique position, there was very little choice. She looked around, at the dead grey wasteland around her, here with someone who probably saw just as much ugliness in it as she did. She almost felt less alone, in some twisted way.

“Then get better,” Lacroix said dryly. Sombra sighed, halfway a groan.

“Yeah. Thanks. I will.”

Lacroix had to smile to herself, just for a second.

They still hated each other, even with this new trust between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slow progress for my girls. i guess that's what happens when two emotional messes try to cooperate


	11. repeat

Sombra had forgotten all English by the time they found a real city, talking to herself in Spanish while Widowmaker looked at her blankly and occasionally responded in French. The only time a mutual language was spoken was when they found a hotel they felt comfortable staying in, and Sombra hung back contacting HQ as she listened to Widowmaker making reservations.

She knew enough French to recognise that Widowmaker’s words, when she walked past her, were a number, so she finished off her message to Akande quickly and followed her.

“I don’t suppose they serve alcohol here,” Sombra sighed as she caught up to Widowmaker. “I need a drink.”

“I don’t care,” Widowmaker sighed, and Sombra rolled her eyes, smiling to herself.

“Of course not. You don’t care about anything, right?”

Widowmaker’s glance was cold as they entered the lift, and after too much silence Sombra’s mind was working too hard.

She supposed becoming a known quantity hurt things. Anyone of importance knew the name Sombra, knew that it meant bad news for them.

“Do you think people know I’m with Talon?”

She couldn’t think of a good reason for asking other than that she genuinely wanted to know what Widow thought. Would it even matter if they did? Would that help or hinder her?

“How should I know?”

Sombra sighed. “No. I don’t know.”

“Oh, relax,” her accent fell strangely over the words, and it made Sombra smile for some reason. She liked Widow’s accent. Appreciated the cold way of telling her she was stressing too much.

“I could tell you to do the same, you know, and I don’t think you’d like it very much.” Widowmaker just laughed at her as the lift reached their new destination, and Sombra followed Widow until she stopped at their number.

“Thank god this one seems nicer than the last,” Sombra said, and Widowmaker hummed gently.

“Hopefully it goes better this time.”

Sombra smiled, mind flickering back to that breakdown. “Yeah. That’d be good.” She walked in ahead of Widow, who locked the door behind them, looking around at the beautiful suite. She made a beeline for the kitchen. “Oh, thank god,” she said as she looked at the cabinet of alcohol. “Liquor.”

“Pour me a glass of wine,” Widow sighed as she walked inside, quickly making to remove her stiletto heels. Sombra grinned as she took out two glasses, pouring red wine into one at a guess and, after examining the bottles available, a tequila for herself. With the two glasses she moved to the lounge area, placing Widow’s before her on the coffee table.

“Well,” she said, seating herself and unabashedly resting her feet on the table beside Widow’s glass. “ _That_ happened.”

* * *

There’d been no resting as they found their way back to HQ. Talon sent another ship for them, this one with far stronger shields and a pilot, so Sombra and Widowmaker hadn’t been able to relax like they could when it was just the two of them. Though Sombra hated realising she _did_ relax around the other woman. 

Once at HQ, Sombra had dealt with serious questioning, aware that Akande wouldn’t believe a single word she said but still, for some reason, forcing out the lies. She was on thin ice. There’d been nothing more to it by the end of their discussion.

Sombra wasn’t sure why she noticed, the next day, when Widowmaker’s hands twitched, her head ducking. There had been four of them there, idly plotting out a future plan, but things had gotten beyond sidetracked with petty arguments breaking out between Moira and Akande. Sombra was sort of listening, but mostly checking through all her programs to triple-check their functionality. So she really _shouldn’t_ have noticed when Widowmaker’s hands twitched.

It had been as if she’d wanted to clutch her hair, fall to her knees. Sombra tried not to stare too obviously, even if the other two present had been distracted.

“I can hardly imagine Talon would have interest in healing technology,” Moira was saying, (strange, because of course she could imagine that,) as Doomfist sighed.

“Why not? It’s healing technology that keeps Reyes alive. And besides, it’d sell pretty well.”

Some scientific breakthrough from a well-known doctor. They hadn’t named them, but Akande was apparently eager to co-opt the technology, and Moira less so.

“Widowmaker,” Sombra suddenly said, taking a chance even knowing she’d draw all eyes to the woman. “I need to talk to you.”

Widow hardly even had time to acknowledge her before Sombra had grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her — willingly, thank God — out of the small room. Their lodgings were just nearby, and fortunately Widow allowed herself to be led all the way into Sombra’s room, waiting — glassy-eyed and breathing heavy — for Sombra to shut the door before the tears started.

Sombra didn’t like listening to anyone cry. She tried to guide Widow to the bed, and instead of just watching her confusedly like before she decided to be proactive, moving to the kitchen and pouring some water as Widow’s tears filled the silence. When she made it back to Widow, it was still happening, still muffled cries and sobs filling the room as Widow buried her face in her arms.

“Widow,” Sombra said, but it was as if Widow couldn’t hear her. “Lacroix!”

Still nothing. She glanced back at the door — no one would walk in, but people would probably be getting suspicious by now.

“ _Amélie_ ,” she said through gritted teeth.

For some reason, that was what made the difference. All sounds cut off after a sharp, painful-sound inhale, and then Widow’s shaking stopped, she began to sit upright, began to wipe her eyes.

“Water,” Sombra said, holding the cup in front of Lacroix’s face.

She’d responded to Amélie. Sombra wasn’t sure what it meant, but she tried not to think about it when Widow took the cup from her hand, seeming gentle and almost helpless.

“Why?” Lacroix asked, breathless after her fit. Sombra shrugged.

“Seemed better than whatever I did last time?”

Why did that matter? Sombra wasn’t sure. It didn’t, really. She hadn’t even meant it badly last time, had just been pleased to see the woman coming down to earth, going through the emotions that Sombra saw as commonplace. Almost like a welcome back to normality. But she realised now how it had appeared.

“You shouldn’t care.”

She wasn’t going for haughty quite like usual. Sombra wondered if it was the first time she’d ever seen Lacroix just… talking. With no front, and no posturing.

“Care is pushing it,” Sombra said, seating herself on her small chair. She hardly used it — at HQ, her room was just for sleeping, really. She had breakfast in the mess and then she spent the rest of her days off-missions in the room she’d made her own on the third floor, walls covered in purple screens and a pile of her coziest pillows in one corner. “I just… I don’t know.”

“I don’t trust you,” Lacroix said, and when Sombra examined her her eyes were looking in the middle-distance, squinted as if she was thinking hard.

“I wouldn’t either,” Sombra said easily. “I’m an asshole.”

Lacroix laughed, a very… different laugh. “At least you’re self-aware.”

Her voice was so different like that, teasing with a little smile that was — what, genuine?

It sent a strange feeling over Sombra. Something warm. She hadn’t felt anything like that in quite a while.

“Well, I’m in a terrorist organisation,” Sombra said as she stood, strangely eager to put distance between herself and Widowmaker. “It’s hard to pretend you’re on the right side when your group named themselves after a bird of prey’s stabby parts.”

“Only a bad terrorist sees themself as wrong,” Widowmaker said gently, glancing over at her. Her face was still glossy in the low light of this room, and she was half curled up, arms loosely holding her legs as her back leaned against the wall. On Sombra’s bed. That suddenly felt strange. “You know, they called you a terrorist before you were with us, too. What about then?”

“Maybe I was,” Sombra said. “I was, what, taking down organisations? I mean, sure. If that’s what they want to call me.”

“I didn’t ask what _they_ called you.”

Sombra smiled grimly. “What do you want me to say? I was just a hacker. Trying to get by after something bad I saw.”

“What, exactly?” Sombra had no idea how much they knew about how she became who she was, but Widow seemed to lean slightly closer, seemed all to eager to hear the answer.

“That’s the first question, yeah,” Sombra eluded. “You feeling better? Moira and Akande are probably getting suspicious.”

“Such a natural segue,” Widowmaker — Lacroix chuckled as she shifted, wiping her face again. Sombra wished she had tissues or something to offer her, but she didn’t, so instead she just waited for her to clean herself up.

There was an odd comfort in the air, the thing that gave away that something had definitely changed between them. Sombra wasn’t sure what to think of that. But with a sense of comfort in the air, they returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you like this chapter!! there's a lot i wish i'd written better, but hopefully the clunky bits aren't too obvious. thank you everyone who's been commenting or leaving kudos or even just reading, you're all so lovely <3 
> 
> i feel like sombra and lacroix have hit a real turning point, over these last few chapters. there are still Things in store, though.


	12. moira

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Sombra lately,” Moira said idly as she tried to tamper with some of her tech. “Or rather… she’s been spending a lot of time with you.”

“Indeed,” Lacroix said calmly, watching as Moira leaned back, apparently satisfied, and shifted the tool over to clip something around her wrist. More tests. Apparently Moira felt strange about some of the results of the last one — Lacroix was almost too exhausted to worry about it.

“I wonder why that is,” Moira said calmly as she looked at the screen, reading the results. Another tool to check her pulse, she supposed.

“Are you accusing me of something?”

Moira laughed, glancing over at her just for a moment. Lacroix had somehow learned to associate the woman’s visage with bad things, the mismatched eyes, plating to protect one from the damage she’d dealt, their harsh look. Her uncomfortably long nails, because Lacroix knew how they felt against her skin.

“Quite the contrary. I’m accusing Sombra of something.”

“What, exactly?”

“Nothing you’d understand. Not anymore, at any rate.”

Of being in love with her. Lacroix looked down, wondering if she was really so incapable of those feelings after the past few weeks. Initially waking up had come so slow, but it grew exponentially, and one second she was curious about a tear on her cheek and the next she was desperately trying not to think at night lest she lose her mind to another of those breakdowns. So maybe she could love again.

Maybe she’d never stopped.

The thought occurred to her alongside an image of Gérard, a feeling of pain in her chest that had been a phantom these past few years, but still somehow there. But there was no use loving him anymore, she knew that. She was a different person. And he wasn’t one at all anymore.

“I’m not sure Sombra understands those feelings, either,” Lacroix answered eventually, sneaking a glance at the screen and catching the numbers — _12\. 10. 8._

She’d gotten to that one too. Relief flooded her for just a second.

“I was never very interested in psychology,” Moira said, snapping off the wristband and shifting the tool away. “But Sombra is rather easy to read. There’s a depth which she’s all too eager to hide.”

“You’re friends with her,” Lacroix commented gently, not sure why the concept sent a shiver through her. Almost like betrayal, for Sombra to associate so easily with someone who could do what Moira O’Deorain had done to Lacroix.

But betrayal presupposed trust, and Lacroix knew she shouldn’t really trust Sombra. She’d only ever come through for her because of their deal. It would never be any different.

“She’s a unique personality,” Moira answered, gesturing for Lacroix to sit back. When she obeyed, Moira leaned forward, a tool in one hand to hold Widow’s eyes open and one in her other hand to shine a light into them. “Once you work out how to ignore her… eccentricities.”

“You mean her habit of playing with people.”

Moira laughed. “Classic defense mechanism. Put people on the defensive, and they’ll never look too closely at her.” Moira switched to Lacroix’s other eye. “We’re all broken people here.”

_How does it feel, being broken like the rest of us?_

Lacroix hoped it wasn’t visible as the memory flashed back into her mind.

“I suppose that’s what it takes to be a terrorist,” Lacroix said calmly, and Moira laughed again, standing upright and taking the tools away.

“I suppose so. But I do wonder about Talon’s motive sometimes. Do you think anyone here really cares to uphold it?”

Widowmaker tried not to grow tense.

“You’re here because of the conditioning, and I suspect a part of you has always resented that. Sombra intends to gain power for her own advantage. Akande just wants to be in charge of something important.” She laughed as she typed a few letters into her computer. “Even Reyes just wants vengeance against his old friends.”

Lacroix held her breath, not sure where Moira was going, what to say.

“And you?”

Moira was quiet for just a second.

“ _Did_ a part of you always resent it, Lacroix?”

She was put on the spot. She grew tense, looking up at Moira who turned, leaning against the table behind her and smirking.

“The silence is as good an answer as any, you know,” Moira said easily. “And while every test comes up absolutely within parameters… there are signs of more aberrations in your behaviour.”

“Oh?” Lacroix could hardly hear her own voice from the static in her head.

“Absolutely. Why didn’t you report it, when you first noticed that the corrections didn’t work?”

Lacroix swallowed as Moira took a few steps closer. Again. They were going to go through it again.

She felt all the symptoms, tried to hold off the impending breakdown. There’d be plenty of time for that while Moira tried to fix her.

“The pain,” Lacroix managed, her voice a husky whisper. Moira nodded once, cold and uncaring.

“I thought as much. You’ve always been a particularly delicate mind.”

Silence held for far too long, as Lacroix felt herself trembling. She tried to hold the eye contact. Tried not to fall apart just yet.

“And as for your question…” Moira turned again, walking away. “I’m a scientist at heart. For a time, Overwatch was willing to fund my research. When that crumbled, Blackwatch. And now…”

She sighed, picking up another strange device and fiddling with it.

“Now it’s Talon who’s funding me. But as always, they don’t realise exactly what they’re enabling. I’m going to leave you be, for now. Our superiors don’t need to know.”

Lacroix breathed out a sigh, not sure if it was enough to call _relief_ but at least she could breathe.

“And you can tell Sombra to stop tampering with my gear,” she added. Lacroix tentatively stood.

“Why?”

“Because I like reliable results?”

“Why are you leaving me be?”

Moira smiled, glancing over at her. “Seeing the way you come back together is every bit as interesting as breaking you apart. And I have reason to think you’re a good person to have in my pocket.”

Moria's eyes flickered away as she spoke the final sentence, and Lacroix was almost frozen, feeling pain from every part of the sentence. She was just going to be used, yet more, by someone else.

But even in spite of that, in spite of the shiver sent down her spine, it wasn’t what bothered her the most. She was accustomed to being a useful tool. But she wasn’t used to the suggestion that her mind cracking into pieces was somehow better for her.

“This doesn’t feel like coming back together.”

Moira raised her eyebrow, almost certainly expecting Lacroix to have more to say of her final sentence. “I understand that. Maybe you’re not even wrong. But, you know, most people would rather have feeling.”

“Why?”

Moira smiled, after a short moment of what was possibly even shock at the question. “They say that the true goal of one’s existence is to find love and true peace. That positive emotions are the reason why it’s worth living. I doubt you’d understand any of that since the conditioning. It’s nonsense, anyway. A goal is something you can only set for yourself.”

“Not in my experience.” Lacroix stood. “Are you finished with me?”

“Oh, I suppose. I’ll let the others know you’re fine. Keep me updated on your mental state.”

“I suppose,” Lacroix said, pretending she’d come back together after the shock. She took steps towards the door, desperate to get out of this damned room, but Moira stopped her.

“By the way… if the others find out about this, I’ll still have to correct it. Don’t relax just yet.”

Lacroix just took in a deep breath, not bothering to find the words for an answer. She left in silence.

Inner peace, Moira had said — Amélie couldn’t even begin to comprehend the concept. She supposed it was something no one could ever truly achieve, a foolish child’s tale to get people through the day.

Fear was running through her, and for some reason, the first person she wanted to see was Sombra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! :)


	13. home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for waiting!! and still having interest!! hectic changes in my life have been slowing me down but a lovely comment motivated me to get back on track and i really love writing this fic and this pairing so it was only a matter of time <3

“Dr O’Deorain wants you to stop tampering with her gear.”

It was as if Sombra had some kind of curse. “Shit,” she groaned, leaning back in her dark room, letting the lights of her screen battle her tired eyes. “Are you—”

Her throat stopped working before she could finish talking, protecting herself from revealing that she almost did care. Instead she turned around and saw that Lacroix at least _seemed_ fine.

But, well, she always had, hadn’t she?

“Am I what?”

“You know. Did she… revert you?”

Lacroix blinked, looking strangely unreadable, and for just a second Sombra was sure Moira had.

“No,” Widowmaker said eventually. “She left me be.”

Sombra shifted her seat, properly facing Widowmaker. “So — okay. So she’s just in on it now?”

“I suppose so.”

Sombra shrugged. “Helpful, I guess. She was the most stressful part of your secret. Does she know about Angela?”

“No,” Lacroix said, and Sombra heard the way her breath hitched. She’d been hoping Sombra would have forgotten those things by now, but Sombra didn’t forget anything if she could help it.

“Okay. I’m curious to see what she’d think about it. I looked up some information on the two of them… they were pretty serious.”

“I’m not interested in O’Deorain’s private life.”

Sombra laughed. “No? Getting interested in gossip is a big part of being alive, Widow. Keep up.”

Widow swallowed, such a classic display of nervousness, but Sombra wasn’t even sure what had set her off. “I’ll pass. I just came here to let you know about that.”

“Thanks so much,” Sombra sighed, swinging back to her screen. “I guess it’s nice to have some good news when I’ve been spending all day pouring over my security.”

“LumériCo,” Lacroix breathed the word, stepping closer to watch Sombra’s screens over her shoulder. Sombra didn’t like the closed-in feeling it gave her, the rush of blood to her head and her panicking heart. “They got to you, didn’t they?”

“I can’t afford to relax,” Sombra said idly. Lacroix hummed.

Zarya, too — she’d even known a name that Sombra hadn’t heard in years. Sombra kept forgetting how to breathe when she considered that.

“I’ve been _relaxing_ for the past seven years. It worked out for me.”

“You were an object,” Sombra mumbled absent-mindedly. “I’m not going for that.”

“I suppose that’s fair enough. Have you found anything interesting?”

“I’m sure you’d like to know,” Sombra snapped, glancing back at Lacroix for just a second. “I’m keeping it to myself for now.”

“Very well,” Lacroix said, and Sombra could almost hear the shrug in her voice. Immediately her stiletto heels were clicking towards the door. And then Sombra could breathe again.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re aware that you’re apparently being hunted?”

“I noticed, Akande,” Sombra sighed into her earpiece as she walked. “It’s just a quick trip, okay? I had some unfinished business.”

“I’m aware. But it’s your own fault if anything happens to you.”

Sombra laughed. “Like you were so willing to take responsibility otherwise. Relax. I’m being extra-careful with my security.”

“You’re slipping. That job took you so long, and now they’re getting through—”

“I’m fine,” Sombra said strongly, stopping in her tracks to emphasise the words. She was walking down the streets of Dorado and maybe it was suspicious, but she figured plenty of people walked around getting upset at their communication devices. “Let me worry about that, okay?”

“Why should I? You’re our best asset when it comes to cyber security, on defence _or_ offence. You need to be at your best, Sombra.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Sombra said dryly. “Look, I’m at the bakery now, so I’ll call you back, yeah?”

“Sombra—”

She hung up on him, rolling her eyes as she strode in. She’d trespassed into LumériCo property earlier that day, found the first computer and brute-forced her way to access to the rest of the place. They’d know exactly what she did, and that was the whole point of the excursion. She was still watching them, and they weren’t allowed to relax just because they knew where she was, once.

She needed to drill down that she wasn’t done with them yet. And after all that stress, she’d kill for a doughnut.

“What’s up?” she asked brightly to the baker, who didn’t smile back. That was the first suspicious thing. “I’d love a doughnut.”

“What are you here for?”

Sombra’s smile faltered for a second. “A doughnut?”

The woman grew paler immediately, and it occurred to Sombra how scared she was.

“Let me guess,” she asked with a growing smile, her instincts fine-tuning, ready for the need to fight. “You’re out of doughnuts?”

“No. I’ll get you one right now.”

“Good,” Sombra said confusedly as the lady turned, taking it out of the heaters behind her and picking up a paper bag with shaking hands. Sombra watched, as if in slow-motion, as she put the donut in the bag, desperate to know just what she was supposed to be worried about, when the pattering of small footsteps interrupted them.

“Hey, mama, I—”

The baker dropped the paper bag, and immediately stood between Sombra and her daughter. Sombra blinked once, looking at her.

Her eyes were wide, and the moment the little girl leaned out enough to meet Sombra’s eyes she gasped, turning around. Sombra looked back up at the baker.

“What did the kid do to me?”

She stepped closer to the woman, as serious as she could. The baker took a step back, trying to better protect her daughter. “Nothing.”

“Sure,” Sombra said quickly. “But what did she do, though?”

The baker was trembling, her eyes watering, and she stammered out the words: “You’re not laying a finger on her!”

That sent a strange shiver over Sombra, struck her with emotions so intense that she almost wanted to cry, so suddenly when the fear and suspense came crashing down around her.

“You—” she cut herself off, fists clenched, hot anger running through her veins. She took another step towards the woman. “You seriously think I’d hurt a _kid_? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The baker didn’t say anything more, just stood tall as she could, evidently quivering with fear. With a sigh, Sombra stepped back. She could guess. Zaryanova had known her location, and she remembered meeting eyes with that very little girl as she left her warehouse.

“Don’t bother,” she said. “I have a guess. I don’t care enough, so I suppose she’s safe for now.”

She spat the words out, turning and leaving in an instant. It didn’t help her case; the biting sarcasm always went unseen when someone was genuinely afraid, and that _hurt_ her, in a way that Sombra hadn’t realised anything still could. She’d grown up, right? She wasn’t supposed to worry about these things anymore.

Somehow, the outside world felt more dangerous now. It was so clean and bright today, at this time of day almost clear of obvious gang members — though the Los Muertos skull tattoos were very evident on some people around her. They were somehow less scary than the well-dressed folk, the ones who would scowl down at the young girl picking food out of the bin, who were always ready to call the police if they saw anything. The kids in Los Muertos were pathetic, desperate, miserable, just like Olivia had been once.

Sombra.

Shit.

She moved on, not sure what she was doing, where she was going. Her home was difficult to reach, and she didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to be alone. It was always the best solution to surround herself with people, let her pride take over and cover up all her dents and scars until the rest of her would forget about them too.

When she was walking through the front door of the cafe, she realised it was a mistake. A gentle jingle playing over the Mexican pop song in the background, filling the room with too much peace for Sombra to ever feel safe. The cafe was successful; those very rich-looking people seated around small circular tables, the scent of coffee thick in the air. Sombra walked to the register, meeting eyes with the old lady behind it.

Older than she had been last time Sombra saw her. She swallowed, but she was looking at Sombra so openly, like any customer, though clearly with a sense of caution based on Sombra’s look. She didn’t recognise her.

“Black coffee,” Sombra said. Usually she liked mochas or chai lattes, something soft and sweet, but right now her head was screaming at her. She’d never cared much about what anyone thought of her. So she’d thought.

Talon — they could think whatever they wanted. So long as big companies saw her as a threat, they could either laugh at her or treat her like Voldemort. Whatever they wanted.

But the poor, struggling people, in small little bakeries, in the more dangerous streets of Dorado? They weren’t supposed to be afraid of her. They weren’t supposed to hate her. They weren’t supposed to shield their children from her.

“Of course,” the lady said, and somehow it stung that she didn’t recognise her. For whatever reason, this had been the place she’d gone for comfort. She hadn’t been here in so many years. Fifteen? Twenty?

Last time she’d come here, Rosa’s smiling face had greeted her. But she’d never see that again.

“Alright, that’ll be 45 pesos,” she said with a pleasant smile, and Sombra paused before fishing out the money.

Then the lady’s face seemed to drop, and she squinted. It made Sombra relax, for some reason.

“Sure,” she said, opening her palm with the money. “Here you go.” She met the lady’s stare with disinterest, but Mrs Zavala leaned in slightly, squinting even more intently.

“Olivia? That’s you, isn’t it?”

Sombra grew tense. “What’s up?” she forced one of her easy smirks.

“We thought you were dead.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Sombra said, gesturing forward with the money, and Mrs Zavala seemed to suddenly remember where they were.

“No, don’t, come in— Vesqualez, dear, can you take this shift?”

A minute later Sombra had been dragged onto a back room, and Mr Zavala was inside, an intent look on his face as he looked away from his computer.

“Are you still with that gang?”

“No.”

She hated the way Mrs Zavala seemed to be breathing a sigh of relief, so she cut in — “I’m with Talon now, sweetie. Don’t relax too much.”

Her face fell slowly. “I should have known. You shouldn’t have spent so much time with them, Olivia—”

“I don’t use that name anymore.”

Mr Zavala had stood, was looking at her almost in that same way that Mrs Zavala had, but definitely colder.

“I suppose not,” she said grimly. The little hurt sparkle in her eye made Sombra feel so small, even when she stood quite a bit taller than the woman. “Your sister was such a good person, Olivia. It’s so sad _you_ were the only influence she had.”

The words blew a hole through her, leaving just a mindless shell of a person in a cute little kitchen. When she remembered herself, she managed a small laugh. “So, what happened to her, that’s _my_ fault?”

“You hardly seem torn up about what happened to her. You never even spoke to us after it happened.”

Like she could bear to see their faces after losing her sister.

“I’m not even sure why you came here. You were on a bad road, and it’s taken you too far.”

“I…” she sighed, trying not to pull at her hair or pace or leave or just start shooting something. “No. I don’t know why I came here either. Actually, can I go?”

“By all means,” Mrs Zavala said coldly. “We only wanted the best for you, Olivia.” The name almost made her flinch this time. “Not _this_. It might have been easier believing you were dead.”

“Wait,” Mr Zavala said, and Sombra turned to him, not sure what she was hoping for. “It’s you who’s been sending us the money, isn’t it?”

Sombra hesitated, but still she nodded.

“We’ll return it. We’ve been trying not to spend it, anyway. We can’t trust anonymous donations, you know.”

“I designed it so it wouldn’t trace back to anyone. I’d never be able to prove it was me who sent it, so it’s not like you could ever owe me anything.” She paused for a moment, as they thought. “Don’t send it back.”

“We’re not accepting it. Who knows how you made it in the first place—”

“Just let me have this one thing. Please.”

And after just a second, maybe after seeing the tears that were trying to brew in her eyes, Mrs Zavala sighed.

“Alright. Alright, child.”

Sombra hadn’t cried in years, either. She wiped her face, pretending she was fine, and she stormed out of the café.

She hated Dorado.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry sombra i swear i love you :(


End file.
